


Tautology

by TheSpaceCoyote



Category: Borderlands, Tales from the Borderlands - Fandom
Genre: Atlas!Rhys - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Shower Sex, Sickfic, ch 12 has rhysothy, kinky use of food, mob!au, optometry AU, some blood and violence, sugar daddy!au, various prompts from tumblr and such
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-12
Updated: 2016-12-07
Packaged: 2018-06-01 18:44:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 17,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6531625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short Rhack fics done either on my own or from prompts on Tumblr.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on Tumblr, for Jack recuperating after an assassination attempt and Rhys having to take care of him.
> 
> Also, some lovely fanart of this fic was done here: http://tntdynamo.tumblr.com/post/142056436514/thethespacecoyote-loved-your-little-piece-of

Rhys was slowly learning that Jack was _terrible_ at recovering. 

Stomach wounds were really not a joke, and even someone as rich and as powerful as Jack could be laid low if something tore or got infected, and for all the times Rhys had gotten sick with something as stupid as a cold and Jack had _insisted_ he take days off and let the CEO care for him, the PA would think that his boss would be more understanding about this sort of thing. He’d even been injected with enough pain killers to reduce a lesser man to a drooling idiot, and yet Jack wouldn’t just sit still, he had to subject Rhys to his dazed, drug-induced desires like he didn’t have a gaping, barely healed hole in his gut.

“Baby, _baby_ , come on, jus’ lemme kiss those sweet lips one more time, I _proooomise_ it’ll help.” Rhys groaned, swatting away Jack’s seeking hands, grabbing the man’s wrists and attempting to press them back against the bed. 

“Kisses don’t heal bullet wounds, Jack. If they did, you would’ve fully recovered, like, two minutes ago?” Rhys huffed, meeting Jack’s puppy dog look with a stubborn intensity. God damn. A mass-murdering psychopath really shouldn’t be allowed to have those kind of big doe eyes, drugged up or not. Maybe Rhys could be swayed by some of Jack’s techniques, but nope, no way. He wasn’t going to fall for that pleading look and let Jack pop his stitches in some half-assed attempt at drunken seduction. He watched as Jack’s brows knit together, coherent thought struggling against the haze of the medication. 

“Okay…then…Imma….get those nerd losers to develop me some kisses that _do_ heal bullets…then you’ll have no choice, Rhysie…” Jack grinned at the thought, fingers curling idly against Rhys’ touch, the tips brushing against the hands that were pinning him by the wrists. Rhys frowned, pulling back, Jack’s numb fingers following him and softly taking the PA’s hand, pressing into the skin and flexing the joints as if he had never seen another person’s hand before. Jack hummed, nonchalantly pressing the pads of Rhys’ fingers against his cheek. 

“C’mon cupcake…what if I’m _dying_ , what if I’m _dying_ and this is the last thing I want…” He rubbed his face against Rhys’ hand like a drugged, horny kitten. “ ‘M burnin’ up, Rhysie, _pleaaaaaaase_. I’m _dying_.”

Rhys frowned. He had, actually, been pretty worried that Jack was going to do exactly that. The wound had been deep and had actually bled pretty badly, and he wasn’t certain but it’d seemed like Jack’s heart had stopped for a brief moment before Rhys had been able to seek out his pulse. And here he was, trying to help the man recover after almost losing him, and Jack wouldn’t _sit_ still and just _let_ him and maybe wait once in his life to get in Rhys’ pants. 

“You’re _sooooooooo_ soft,” Jack slurred, hands cupping Rhys’ cheeks, studying him with an awed look on his face as his thumbs rubbed the skin under the man’s eyes. “Rhysie….how ya doing that….” Jack’s eyes roved in dazed curves over Rhys’ face, like it was the second most fascinating thing in the world, after the sheer awe of the PA’s hand. 

“Soft n’ _mine_.” Jack sounded like a child with a new toy, and Rhys knew he was being played with but he sighed, defeated, and leaned into Jack’s touch. If Jack wanted to be fucked with a bullet hole in his stomach, then he was _still_ barking up the wrong tree, but Rhys supposed the drunken ministrations and compliments were something he could tolerate for now. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for a prompt on Tumblr, based on the phrase "Who did this to you?" I went with a mob!AU for some reason.

 

The last thing that Rhys remembered was crumpling to his knees on the stoop of the building, blood spitting onto the stone steps below him as they rose up to meet his forehead, and that was it. 

He’d been backed into an alleyway on his way to his boss’s headquarters, cornered by three goons that he didn’t recognize, though a quick glance to crests patterned on their sleeves told enough. He’d held his own for a good while, but one lanky kid against three towering men had a foregone conclusion, and Rhys had found himself beaten and bloodied and thrust against a wall. He’d been dazed and ready to just slip into unconsciousness, head lolling to the side, blood spilling from his nose and over his parted lips as he struggled to breath.  

It was only when they had started trying to take his arm, jostling the sensitive nerves and trying to improperly wrench it out of the socket, that Rhys found his fight again. The arm had been a gift, a symbol of fealty, and they _couldn’t_ have it. He’d screamed and struggled, panic and anger coursing through him, and finally with a heave of pain had managed to wrench his arm free of the goon’s grasp and plant it square in his face, feeling the pop of blood and bone underneath the steel knuckles before running as fast as he could on wobbly legs and ragged lungs. 

In his panicked, addled dash, he hadn’t even been sure if he was heading in the right direction, but it wasn’t long before his vision was blurred beyond use, his head throbbing with pain, so he had collapsed against the stairs of the closest home, body laying limp against the harsh stone.

* * *

 The first thing that Rhys saw when he woke up was his boss’s face, and the only thing Rhys could think about at first was how long it’d been since he’d been able to see every crease and pore and line of scar in the man’s skin. The thought doesn’t last long, as the pain from his injuries lanced through him and he winced. When he opened his eyes again Jack’s moved to stand above him, staring down at the supine boy underneath him. Rhys blinked and looked around, realizing he was in Jack’s office, laying on the man’s leather couch, surrounded by the other men in Jack’s employ. Rhys swallowed and tried to sit up, but a rush of dizziness forced him down with a whimper. 

Fear coursed through him anew. Was he in trouble? Had the cops seen him? Had something happened? Was Jack going to kill him? Rhys worried his lip as he stared at the man standing above him, an intimidating figure cut in black and yellow, both flesh and false eye locked on him, aggravation writ into the arch of his brows.  

“Rhys.” The man’s voice was low and dark. “What happened?” A shiver ran through the boy at the tone—a tone he knew, albeit in a separate context. Jack’s fingers slipped under his chin, tilting his head up. 

“I…I was walking alone and…I..I got jumped.” Rhys stammered, wilting under Jack’s stare. “They…I think they wanted the arm…” He instinctively cradled the cybernetic, wincing as the pain of the near dislocation thrummed through him. It didn’t seem like Jack was going to murder him, but he knew that if he had let his assailants take the arm, then this office would’ve been his grave. Jack got upset when others took his things. 

“Who did this to you?” Jack’s voice was a force calm, restrained despite the obvious anger in his eyes. Rhys swallowed, averting his own gaze from that intense look. 

“D….Dahl…” The boy whimpered, shuddering as the fingers left his chin. He looked up, only to see that Jack had turned his back on him. Rhys bit back a whine, wanting more contact, but Jack was being the _boss_ right now, he didn’t have time to care for Rhys in the way the young man craved. Rhys felt disappointment course through him, wanting to be cared for and comforted, but Jack had business, and business always came before Rhys. 

He was hauled up by some of Jack’s men to be carried off to the doctor, not one more word passing between him and Jack before he was ushered out of the room. 

* * *

 Any disappointment Rhys had felt at Jack’s apparent lack of care was gone by the next afternoon. 

After being patched up, Rhys had been dropped off in an empty bedroom within the house. He had fallen asleep quickly, exhausted over the night’s ordeal, only to be awakened in the early hours of the morning by a rapid, raspy knock at the door. He’d opened it in a haze of pained confusion, only to be swept up in a grasp of bloody fingers and ravenous lips. 

All questions about the blood covering the man from head to toe, staining deep into the yellow of his dress shirt and drying on his tan skin dissipating under Jack’s heated touches, pushing Rhys back into the bare bed and claiming him with his mouth and teeth. Rhys fell beneath his possessive hands, relief and arousal flooding through him as he finally had _Jack_ —not business Jack, not boss Jack—just the man and the force of his desire.   

So Rhys lay, dazed, healing body curled up into Jack’s lazy embrace, the warm light of the afternoon spilling through the window, the morning long eaten away in their sex. He pressed his face into his boss’s chest and sighed, relaxing into the care and protection and promise the other man provided. 

Rhys wouldn’t see the televised reports about the mass-slaughter at the Dahl Family residence until the following day. 

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for a prompt on Tumblr, for Jack getting a terrified Rhys to help dig a bullet out of his shoulder.

When Rhys was called up to Jack’s office, he was expecting a mountain of overdue paperwork to be shoved in his face, or—if he was lucky—an invitation to a quick rendezvous in the CEO’s lap. What he wasn’t expecting was Jack lounging in his chair, fingers pressed idly into his lips, looking far too relaxed and composed for someone whose shoulder and upper arm were completely soaked in blood.

“H-Holy  _shit_ …” Rhys’ eyes widened, cybernetic hand brought to his lips in surprise as he stared. He cautiously approached Jack’s desk, wondering how the hell the man was so calm when he was very obviously still bleeding from  _whatever,_ bright red tracks trickling down his forearm and dripping down the arm of his yellow chair. “What the hell? What  _happened_?”

“Mmm. Took one of the new prototypes from R&D out to play.” Jack chuckled darkly, voice slightly breathy with pain. “Oh, those bastards are going to pay. Who forgets to install a fucking  _safety_? Lucky I didn’t blast my shoulder off.” Rhys was going to say that, maybe, if Jack didn’t want to risk getting his arm torn off, he shouldn’t be stealing random in-development weapons to wave around his office, but Jack was bleeding and obviously very angry and had a very unstable, untested weapon lying on his desk, so he kept his mouth shut, trying to compose himself even with the smell of blood and singed flesh in the air. 

“Um.  _Soooo._  Do you need me to actually…do anything? Do you need me to call medical for you?” Rhys raised his eyebrow, not sure why he was here if Jack was so nonchalant about getting shot? God, he hoped it wasn’t going to be something gross. Jack grinned at him, showing his teeth as he tapped at his chin. Oh no. It was going to be something gross. 

“Nah. Not really a big fan of doctors, Rhysie. More of a hands on kind of guy, you know? Oh,  _you_  know.” The man winked, and Rhys rolled his eyes. “But yeah, so long story short there’s a nasty bullet stuck in my shoulder and if I want to fix it up all nice and pretty I need to get that sucker out of there. I guess I could do it myself, but you’ve got such nice, thin fingers, not to mention  _that_ —” He tapped lightly on Rhys’s cybernetic, “So I figured, why not, I’ve got a cute PA with such a delicate touch who would do just about anything for me. So…” Jack shrugged off his jacket, peeling away the wet layers from his body and tossing them at Rhys’s feet. “Like, hop to it, pumpkin.”

Rhys just stared, face paling as he looked from Jack’s face to the bleeding wound in his shoulder. He pinched his brow with his cybernetic hand, sighing. 

“No, no no  _no_ , no way, Jack, how about you suck it up and call a doctor–” Rhys made to leave, only to have his flesh wrist caught in a surprisingly strong grip, considering it was coming from Jack’s wounded arm. Rhys stuck out his lower lip, giving the CEO a suffering look. 

“I’m not  _calling_  no doctor, Rhysie. So how about  _you_ suck it up and stick your fucking fingers in me and find the fucking bullet,  _princess._ ”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sugar Daddy AU! for a Tumblr prompt that requested shower sex.

Rhys isn’t sure if he’s ever seen anything like Jack’s shower, _ever._

Maybe he’d seen something akin to it in those kinds of fancy magazine covers jammed and folded near a supermarket checkout counter somewhere, but even then those tended to be more...tasteful, more elegant and cohesive than what he’s looking at right now. This—this is almost like someone had drenched a prison shower in gold leaf and satin yellow paint, and replaced all the cold steel with marbled amber, the rusted metal handles and clogged shower heads discarded in favor of bright metallic hardware inlaid with off-white enamel and intricate patterns. The floor tiles are almost blindingly gold, soft to the touch of his feet and criss-crossed with glistening black grout, and for a moment Rhys wonders if Jack would go so far as to _actually_ put gold in the floor of his fucking shower. His brows knit together as he takes in more of the room’s fumbled opulence, including the pointlessly vaulted ceiling that tipped in a fucking skylight ringed with bright digital bulbs and the gold-wire caddies hanging laden with a variety of shapely colored bottles beside each shower head. It’s like a five-year old’s image of luxury, and Rhys doesn’t quite understand it because the rest of the penthouse looks fine, all elegant modern lines of black and white and goldenrod. Sleek square leather couches and random framed splotches of paint interspersed between portraits of the CEO himself and original historic Hyperion photographs. What the hell had Jack been thinking? 

“This...” Rhys gestures vaguely to the room around him, struggling with how to respond. “This is....kind of a lot.” He runs his hand over the stem of one of the overly ornate shower nozzles, frowning as he looks around at the other fixtures lining the walls. “What the hell, Jack, why would you ever need _eight_ shower heads?” He hears the CEO snicker, then the soft sound of the door clicking behind him. 

“Oh, trust me kitten, this shower is just _perfect_ for orgies.” Rhys withdraws his hand sharply and shoots Jack a mortified look, which earns him a quick kiss on the nose and a sharp smack on the ass. 

“I’m _kidding._ Not that your face isn’t _priceless_.“ Rhys eyes him warily, not exactly believing that Jack isn’t the type to arrange company gang bangs in his stupid massive shower. He’s sure there’s enough people within Hyperion who wouldn’t stick their nose up at a chance to be with Jack to fill this room to the brim. There’d probably even be a queue extending into the bedroom. The thought makes the emptiness around them more crisp, highlighting the intimacy of it all—hundreds of people want a piece of the CEO, and yet here Rhys is, alone, the sole subject of the man’s closed affections. That makes him sigh and choose to disregard the absurd size and design of the man’s shower room, letting Jack undress him slowly and unlatch his arm, setting it carefully in the pile of clothes that are soon joined by the CEO’s own. And just as Rhys is starting to get used to the ridiculous area he’s about to be fucked in, Jack’s fingers are playing with an exposed panel in the wall even as he presses his body against Rhys’, hand running up the slim planes of the man’s torso. Rhys gasps softly as the light in the room grows darker, then vibrantly colorful as the air suddenly hisses with sudden pressure and heat.   

_So,_ there’s a dimmer switch in the shower, and the shower heads are ringed with cycling LEDs, and Jack can turn all the nozzles at once, and Rhys is totally not convinced that this place was never used for some kind of psychedelic sex party, or at least not convinced that it wasn’t at least  _designed_ for that purpose, because the air is humid and vibrant and he’s being touched and rubbed and lathered up all over and it feels like a clandestine warehouse rave or a kaleidoscope of a tacky college party. Before long there’s soap foam clinging to his cheeks and Jack’s mouth against his, his back pressed up against the wall as hot water cascades against his skin and steam fogs up his flesh. Jack is rubbing something sparkling and silver against his skin, and Rhys sees himself shimmer in the rainbow light, and Rhys sighs into the stupidity of the opulence but it’s so nice to be so pointlessly pampered as Jack pins him up against the misty marble and begins to prepare him, spreading his legs apart and easing fingers into him that make him cry out and beg for more. Rhys is distantly surprised that all he can hear his own voice, as he's pretty sure that those black boxes in the corners of the ceiling are speakers, and the fact that Jack hasn't turned them on makes it clear that all he wants to hear is the sound of the young man’s voice as he begs and pleas and enjoys, and that absolute minimal amount of restraint is enough to make Rhys want this even more. 

Jack’s fully inside of him soon enough, Rhys hooking one leg around the man’s hip as his hand grips into the hair at the base of the CEO’s neck, whining desperately as Jack thrusts up into him, his wet skin catching against the wall as his body jerks with the motions. It’s so good, Rhys is so wet and slick inside and out that the feeling of Jack’s hands on him and dick deep inside of him are even better than usual. Jack’s lips are dripping with glitter as they pull away from Rhys’ lathered skin, and the young man tastes the chemical berry of the lotion as the CEO draws him into another needy kiss. 

Rhys remembers the moment he comes—the room is washed in bright, acidic blue and Jack’s eyes are barely closed, his teeth shimmering and dark with drawn blood, the shadow of his scar standing out in the ambience and the lines of his scattered bangs stuck to his forehead, and with that image burnt into his vision Rhys closes his eyes and moans as his orgasm washes over him.

They slide down onto the floor minutes later, Jack’s cum pooling out of Rhys and spreading along the golden floor as they CEO lays over him, propped up on one elbow and grinning down at his ravished partner. The lights are back to normal, the shower heads off and steam gradually settling into the floor and walls, perspiring on the backs of the two men as they slowly caught their breaths. 

“Is that real silver?” Rhys asks idly as he runs his fingers over his collarbone, the flecks left by the lotion dusting his hand. He presses his hand against Jack’s face, striping two sloppy streaks over his cheekbone. Jack lightly grasps at Rhys wrist, kissing at his palm.

“Platinum, actually. $850 dollars a bottle.” Rhys stares at him, mouth slightly agape. 

“God, Jack, that’s more than I make in a _month._ ” Rhys’ eyes rake over his form, wondering just how much of his paycheck he was hypothetically covered in right now. 

“That’s because your job _suuuuucks_ , kitten. Dunno why you won’t just let me put you on Hyperion’s payroll already.”

“I don’t want to be basically paid to fuck you, that’s… _weird_.” Jack just shrugs, leaning down to peck Rhys on the check.  

“Fine. Guess I don’t care what shitty job you work, as long as I can show you what the good life is like…and still fuck you senseless like this.” Rhys snickers softly as he lets Jack rest his head against the young man’s chest, fingers idly running through his hair until the water on his skin grows cold and the cum on his thighs dries sticky, at which point he decides to untangle from the CEO and dry them both off. A nice, tender gesture that distracts Jack just long enough for Rhys to steal his discarded sweatshirt and coyly slip it on over his naked form—something that he knows Jack will never really protest, something that he knows will earn him wet, sloppy kisses and love bites beneath the loose collar for the rest of the night.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More sugar daddy!AU. Done for a hurt/comfort prompt on Tumblr: "When was the last time you ate?"
> 
> Featuring Jack being sick as a dog.

Jack wasn’t picking up his phone. Hadn’t been picking up his phone, actually, for the past two days. Rhys had tried to tamp down his worry at first, trying to rationalize that Jack could very well be swamped with business. But when the morning of the third day passed with still not so much as a snarky text or smoldering selfie from the CEO, Rhys grew concerned. 

He had the day off from work, so he decided to pay Jack a visit. It was a Saturday, so the CEO _should_ be home, unless something had actually happened to him. Rhys nervously fiddled with the golden keycard that Jack had entrusted to him, slipping it into the slot and opening the elevator that would lead him up to the man’s penthouse. He tugged his light blue cardigan around himself, fiddling with the sleeve until the elevator let out a chime, the door opening in front of him.

“J-Jack? It’s Rhys, a….are you home?” The man broached nervously, shuffling out into the quiet of penthouse, which was usually punctuated by the sound of the television, or the swift clack of keyboard as Jack punched out business emails, swearing and talking to himself. 

“Jack?” Rhys called again as he circled the living room, trying to find a sign that Jack was in here, or had been here at all recently. He was about to leave, feeling uncomfortable in the pure quiet of Jack’s house, when he heard a low, pained moan coming from the ajar bedroom. Rhys’ nerves pricked as he carefully approached the door, nudging it open as he peered inside.

“Jack, is that you?” Rhys whispered, earning a louder, annoyed moan in response. The room was dark, the blinds drawn, but Rhys could still make out a lump in the tousled pile of blankets on the bed. He saw a thick, tan arm hanging off the edge, a familiar ring glinting in the light let in as Rhys opened up the door. The young man tiptoed quietly, shutting the door behind him as he moved towards the bed. Clothes were scattered all over the floor, alongside sheets that had pooled off of the bed and clumps of used tissue. He almost stepped on Jack’s phone, the screen lighting up at the last second with yet another missed call, buzzing uselessly against the carpet. The man on the bed let out a groan, blindly groping around with his hand at the sound of his phone going off. Rhys crouched down, tapping the _end call_ button before rising to sit next to Jack, trying not to depress the mattress too suddenly. 

The man looked like _crap_. His eyes were screwed shut, hair sticking out every which way, some strands plastered on his sweating forehead. His eyelids and nose were red and swollen, the skin on his lips chapped and bleeding in some areas. At the soft touch of Rhys’ hand, Jack’s features twitched, his eyes fluttering open. They were distant and rheumy, sweeping bleary over Rhys’ body before they focused on his face.  

“Hah….h-hey…” Jack murmured, giving the young man a weak smirk. “Must’ve died….got myself an angel at my side…”  

“Jack…” Rhys carded his fingers through the man’s hair, the unwashed strands falling limp under his touch. The CEO was obviously _very_ sick, and his state left Rhys wondering if he had even tried going to the doctor or…whatever someone of Jack’s status did when they were sick. Jack had to have someone who could make personal calls, right?

“You idiot…” Rhys mumbled, his hand cupping the man’s face, wincing at the heat radiating from Jack’s skin. “How long have you been like this? Did you call a doctor?”

Jack mumbled out a chuckle, weakly leaning into Rhys’ touch.

“J…Just a flu, Rhysie. Don’t need a doctor for that…” Jack coughed, voice thick and rough as he screwed his eyes shut tight. “ _Yeeeep._ Doing just fine on my own.”

“ _Jack_.” Rhys whined, rubbing his thumb over the man’s sallow cheek. “You really look like shit. Have you been laying here for three days? When was the last time you ate?” Jack winced, weakly swatting at Rhys’ thigh. 

“Not so _loud_ , pumpkin.” He groaned, eyebrows knitting together. “Fuck I….I dunno…feels like I ate something at one point…” The CEO worked his tongue around his dry mouth for a moment and gave a flimsy shrug, shimmying back under the blankets. Rhys sighed, giving the man a soft pat on the shoulder before rising. 

“I’m going to get you some water and some food, okay? I’m pretty sure I can heat up a can of soup.” Jack chuckled into his pillow, rolling over onto his back and looking at his boyfriend with glassy, amused eyes.

“ ‘Kay, just make sure you don’t burn down my house, cupcake…” Rhys rolled his eyes, tugging the covers up over the ill CEO and giving him a quick kiss on the crown. 

“Yeah, yeah okay. Once you’re doing eating I’m sticking you in the shower, mister. Your hair is like a frikkin’ grease trap.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done for a prompt on Tumblr, for someone wanting more hurt Rhysie D: poor baby

The ringing in Jack’s ears wouldn’t fucking  _stop_ , and he was ready to rip them clean off, tear the bits of organ right out of his head, if only to feel like he was doing  _something_. 

The heat of the situation throbbed, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he struggled to navigate through the heavy fog of metallic dust kicked up in the air around him. He drew in thick breath after thick breath, distantly praying that the backup oxygen systems had kicked in to cover the damage, because  _Rhys_  was still here somewhere, and Jack hadn’t found him yet, and he couldn’t very well be dragged away by the frantic hands trying to guide him to safety just because of some stupid lack of breathable air. 

His comm was shrieking at him, undoubtably from all ends of Helios, but Jack could sort out what or  _who_  was responsible for the damage as soon as his found that Rhys was safe. He stamped over the piles of rubble blown from the destroyed hallway, doing his best to ignore the deep sting in his leg that lanced up his body with every step. His leg could be blown off, raw and ragged at the knee, and that wouldn’t have stopped the CEO from tearing through the debris, searching for his idiot PA. 

Rhys had only been a couple of feet behind him, having stumbled over his ridiculous new pair of skag-skin boots just as he was telling Jack that they were a  _smart_ and  _classy_  investment, and that maybe Jack should look into actually having some fashion sense for once, instead of wearing the same outfit every day. And Jack had sniggered, watching the boy trip in his stupid shoes, mouth open and ready to fire back an insult at the kid, when a deafening  _bang_  had rang through his body, his vision shaking and blurred with the sudden explosion of metal and concrete and wiring that knocked him flat on his back. As soon as Jack had gathered himself, scowling at the aches in his head and the wetness dribbling down his temple, he had shouted for Rhys between violent swears, glanced about the twisted wreckage of the hallway only to find nothing, not even a broken body. 

So here he was, digging fruitlessly through the mound of debris, ignoring the concerned hands pulling at him, voices crying  _sir, please, we need to get you to medical_  as his fingernails split and bled against the broken bits of wall, errant wires stabbing into his palms as he scraped about for his PA. 

“Rhys!” Jack snarled, hoping to get a reply from somewhere in the pile. “Rhys, come on kitten, talk to me, let me know where you are.” Hopelessness gnawed at his stomach as the seconds ticked by, fearing that Rhys couldn’t respond, that he was unconscious or  _dead_. The CEO felt anger flare up in him, twining with his fear, the concoction fueling his desperate search. 

Jack’s heart leapt as he heard a moan—soft, nearly imperceptible beneath the screams and loud, blaring emergency sirens—and began fiercely digging in its direction, tossing aside huge slabs of infrastructure, spattering the rubble with his own blood as he tore his way down to the weak groaning. 

Jack tore away a metal panel, taking a moment to register what he was seeing before he dove forward, hand’s clutching at his PA’s pale face. His fingers pressed nervously into his cheeks, watching as Rhys’ eyes fluttered, his echo-eye flickering, struggling to start up. Blood was flowing in streams down the man’s face, his lips moving silently, chest too crushed and airways too stopped up to get much sound out. 

Jack wasted no time in ripping the rest of the debris off of his PA’s body, grimacing as he took in the patches of blood staining his clothing, the huge bruises on his exposed skin, the ragged wound in his side where a particularly nasty, broken piece of piping had torn through. He still had his god damn boots on, though, which drew a manic chuckle from the CEO as he dragged his PA out from under the sheaves of rubble. Jack had turned, covered in blood and dust and eyes wild, snarling at the people still dumbly lingering around him that yeah, maybe they should get that medical team here now, now that Rhys was found and needed help. 

A couple more minutes of furious orders later, this time through his comm to his personal army, Jack found there was little left to do but— _sit_ , sit on the throne of rubble and hold his bleeding PA in his lap, absently stroking his hair and swearing a rain of revenge on whoever was responsible, to which Rhys only responded with a heavy whimper and a drool of blood.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done for a sexual humiliation prompt meme on Tumblr. Prompt was: “You’re going to put that inside of you and I’m going to keep the remote and give you pleasure whenever I feel like it. Maybe even tomorrow when you’re having that presentation you’ve worked so hard for.”
> 
> Enjoy!

Jack was an asshole. _Especially_  when it came to sexual affairs. Rhys thought he would have understood that by now, so why was he consistently surprised when the man pushed his boundaries over and over again?

Still, he found himself shocked and—annoyingly—aroused when Jack had tossed a small, egg-shaped toy on the bed, dangling a matching white remote before Rhys’ eyes.

“You’re going to put that inside of you, sweetheart, and I’m going to keep this and give you pleasure whenever I feel like it. Maybe even tomorrow when you’re having that presentation you’ve worked so hard for.” Rhys mouth had dropped in protest, trying to thrust the device back into Jack’s hands, but the CEO was damn persistent and painting a picture in Rhys’ head that the PA had to admit was— _hot_ , really hot as hell, even if it meant risking his corporate career just to satiate Jack’s whims. And he didn’t mind indulging in the hungry look on the man’s face as he watched Rhys carefully work the small toy into himself, slapping his ass as Rhys got dressed and left for the night to try and actually get some rest. 

The man struggled to go about his morning routine normally, but the constant pressure inside of him reminded him of the power that Jack held, the vulnerable position that Rhys was caught in. It send tiny thrills through the man, his lips dry as he prepared himself as best as he could for the task soon at hand. 

Jack wasn’t even supposed to be at this presentation, but of course he had deliberately inserted himself, and naturally nobody else had the balls to complain and eject their temperamental boss from the meeting. So Jack was there, sitting right in front of Rhys’ line of sight at the end of the long table. He was reclining back in his chair, hands behind his head, a waiting,  _knowing_  smirk on his face as he watched Rhys with a raised eyebrow. A smirking, mimed kiss from the man was enough for Rhys to try to direct his attention elsewhere, talking at the others seated around the table or gesturing to his projected presentation, trying not to think about the eyes that he could absolutely feel raking him up and down. 

Rhys’ hands trembled as he struggled through the slides, absently rubbing his thighs together, feeling the toy shift deep inside him. It hadn’t gone off yet, not even a little, leaving the man in a state of anxiety over when exactly Jack would decided to ruin his life, ruin the presentation he’d worked so hard on compiling and designing and turn him into putty before his colleagues. 

Each slide flicked past, Rhys every once and awhile chancing a glance at Jack, trying to figure out what the hell he was thinking. Maybe it had just been an empty threat, an excuse to watch Rhys squirm and shiver in anticipation of something that would never come. The more he thought about it, the more that it sounded exactly like one of the sick pranks that Jack would find  _hilarious_ , making him go through all of this for nothing. 

Sure enough, Rhys concluded his presentation with nothing but quiet clapping and nods, and not a single shiver from the toy buried inside of him. Rhys quickly returned to his seat, eyes finding Jack’s widening smirk and glittering eyes, about to shoot the CEO a frustrated “you’re such an asshole” pout, when the a sudden,  _harsh_  vibration tore a loud, desperate noise out of him. 

Rhys’ legs gave out from under him and his knees hit the floor, hands grasping at the back of his chair as strangled moans spilled from his lips. He heard the scrape of chairs as people got up, heard the murmur of concern and even felt a hand on his back, which made him shudder and curl in on himself as the vibrator continued to shake his insides apart. His trembling fingers slipped from the back of the chair as he hunched down, squeezing his thighs together as arousal swarmed his body. His hands clenched in fists, nails digging into his palm as he felt his cock harden against the confines of his pants. 

“ _Don’t_ …” He hissed as he felt another hand touch his back, this one broader and firmer than the other. “Please…”

“Please what, baby?” Came the low, hoarse voice that caused spikes of pleasure to shoot unbidden to his already trembling arousal. His body was needy and boneless as he was coaxed from his curled position and onto his back, the broad hand moving to press harshly between his legs as Jack looked down at him with a proud, predatory grin. 

“You were so good up there, kitten, I tell you I thought you were going to cum from anticipation alone, before I even got to juice up that pretty little toy inside of you.” The man purred as he massaged Rhys cock, the fingers of his other hand held firm and unrelenting on the buttons of the tiny white remote tucked against his palm. Rhys whimpered, mindlessly bucking his hips into thin air, his thighs clenching around Jack’s hand. The CEO stroked him through his tightened pants, grin only growing with every desperate pant and breathy plea coming from the young man as the toy inside him continued to buzz at full power. Rhys shivered as he felt Jack’s breath on his ear, hot and wet and perspiring on his skin. 

“I wonder, how many times I can get you to cum before the charge in that thing wears out?”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Food porn for a request on tumblr! 
> 
> With some lovely fanart here: http://leenhiddles.tumblr.com/post/143675751663/im-inspired-dont-kill-me-based-on

It was the aftermath of one of Jack’s ridiculous corporate galas, representatives from Maliwan and Torgue and so many others milling about with false, chuckling smiles and furtive sips of champagne. Rhys had stuck by Jack’s side for the majority of the night, seeing just how wound and tense with boredom the man got after the thousandth shook hand or blithely met stare. Rhys brain soon worked out a plan of attack to help the CEO unwind after—massage those stiff shoulder muscles as soon as they got back to the penthouse, sit himself between the CEO’s legs and suck his cock off with the copious amount of fancy wine he had drunken still tingling on his tongue—a plan which was of course, shattered, like most of Rhys’ plans, when Jack pinned him up against the dessert bar, knee pressed between his legs and lips moving languid against the PA’s. 

Not that Rhys minded much. He would prefer to not be caught by any stragglers or employees set to clear and take down the tables, but Jack was the boss, and could send anyone he wanted to scattering if they caught him fucking his PA between the leftover finger eclairs and the humming chocolate fountain.  

Rhys watched with his mouth parted, shirt open and hanging off his shoulders as Jack lifted one of the gilded gold serving spoons and dipped it into the simmering pool of chocolate, holding it delicately above Rhys’ body with a smirk on his lips. Rhys whined and opened his mouth—he’d already eaten nearly a dozen of the petite ice cream parfaits that had been laid out, but  _still_ —yet Jack didn’t drizzle the chocolate over Rhys’ lips, instead moving the spoon down, dripping specks over his chin and neck before Jack pooled it into the man’s slanted collarbone. 

Rhys watched it puddle there, matte and velvety in its surface tension, trembling against the cream of his collarbone as the CEO bent down over him. Jack’s tongue lapped at the pool of chocolate, disturbing it and causing it to run down the man’s body. 

The chocolate was still warm, cooling as it dripped down Rhys’ chest, slipping into the soft creases of his abdomen and dripping along the rivulets of his hips. The PA shivered, clutching onto the broad arms holding him against the banquet table as a hot tongue lapped against his collarbone, making Rhys cry out as teeth and tongue bit and sucked against his skin. 

“So tasty…” Jack lifted his head briefly and licked his lips, shooting Rhys a catty smirk. “You’re givin’ me a right sweet tooth, baby boy.” The PA whined as his lips were briefly claimed by Jack’s, tongue slipping inside and giving him a taste of the sugar lingering in the man’s mouth, before Jack pulled away and continued to lave attention on the man’s body. 

Jack’s tongue left trails of wet sweetness all over Rhys’ body, not nearly enough to wipe the stickiness from the man’s flesh, making Rhys tremble at the sensation of tacky sugar against his tingling skin. He let out a needy cry when Jack’s tongue prodded at his nipple, the CEO surging after the reaction with a sharp bite, languidly sucking marks on the man’s chest and making Rhys writhe against the table. 

“ _Jaaack._ ” Rhys moaned, wiggling as Jack moved down his body, licking over the soft flesh of his stomach and making the man tense and arc as Jack got close to where Rhys needed him the most. Thankfully, for once Jack didn’t tease, yanking down Rhys’ pants and wrapping his mouth around the PA’s swollen length, tongue flattening against the underside of his cock as he sucked the man off in earnest. Rhys squirmed against the red tablecloth when he felt the CEO ease his dick into his throat, disturbing some of the remaining desserts as he cried and begged Jack into the echoing air of the ballroom. He saw white as he came, gushing down into Jack’s deft mouth Rhys groaned as he felt Jack’s throat contract, swallowing down all of Rhys’ cum until the man was thoroughly spent and lying boneless against the rucked tablecloth. 

Rhys watched through hazy eyes as Jack rose and  leered back over him, thumbing the last dribble of Rhys’ cum from his lips before luxuriantly sucking the digit off, licking his lips as they curled in a triumphant sneer. 

“You taste even better, sweetheart.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done for a sexual humiliation prompt: "You look good getting fucked. Now smile for the camera."
> 
> Featuring Atlas!Rhys and Hyperion!Jack

“You look good getting fucked…now smile for the camera.” Jack crooned, voice falsely sweet as the small device pinned to his lapel twitched, lens focused on the heat and movement of the body laid out on Jack’s desk.  Pants ripped off, black shirt and coat torn open to reveal a pale torso, decorated with tattoos and now overlaid with bright red bite marks and bruises running from the solid chest down to the soft stomach lightly dusted with fine hairs leading down to a small, bright red cock—desperately leaking as its owner writhed against bonds around his wrists and ankles and moaned against a garish, yellow and black ball gag clearly emblazoned with the Hyperion logo. 

“Can’t wait ’til your shareholders see this, Rhysie.” Jack purred, running his hands through the other CEO’s hair, tugging the locks out of their gelled hold, watching them fall against the man’s sweaty forehead as he thrust harder into the man’s body. Little upstart, trying to pull a fast one on Jack, back Hyperion in a corner. Dumb kid was way, way out of his league, and by the look in Rhy’s eyes, he was starting to realize it. It took being _literally_  fucked by Jack for the kid to understand what his position was, what he was up against. Jack hadn’t been able to get that idea through the Atlas CEO’s thick skull, so he guessed it made sense that he had to go through a  _softer_  route. 

“What do you thinks going to happen, kitten? Think your stock prices will plummet, or go up? Guess it depends on how much they might feel…about a  _merger_ with Hyperion, hm?” Jack chuckled at himself, punctuating his joke with a sharp thrust into the Atlas CEO. The sharp, sobbing cry that came from his rival was pure music to his ears, and his fingers curled into Rhys’ hair, dragging the kid up off of the desk, hunching over his prey as to level the video device on his lapel with Rhys’ face, the recorder twitching and focusing on the sudden shift in the heat signature before him. 

“Awww, look at you. So pretty, the new face of Atlas.” He crooned, hand finding the man’s hard cock, stroking it idly and watching Rhys’ expression twitch. The little noises that the man made behind the gag at the touch  were delicious in the way they belied his status. Rhys’ eyes fluttered, helpless in his pleasure and fear as he was ruthlessly fucked into the desk, embarrassed flush heating his cheeks as the device on Jack’s jacket filmed every last moment, leaving nothing not exposed. The way Rhys’ eyebrows furrowed when Jack rubbed up against his prostate, the way his eyes screwed up and his lips parted in a filthy moan when he finally came—all of it was now recorded within the small device. 

“Now, lets not talk anymore about changing our current trade agreement, mm? Or I won’t fuck you so nicely next time.” Jack sat back in his chair, cock still out and slicked with his own release as he watched Rhys shakily pull himself together, the Atlas CEO nodding furtively as he pulled his pants up, swaying as he got off of the desk. His numb hands struggled to button up his shirt, having even more trouble when Jack tugged at his elbow, pulling the other CEO into an insistent kiss, holding him close for an agonizing couple of seconds before finally letting the young man take his leave. Jack pressed contemplative fingers to his cheek, watching him go. 

As amusing as it would be for every last one of Rhys’ employees to see the CEO being fucked senseless by Handsome Jack’s thick, fat cock, a spike of jealously rang through the man at the thought of anyone else seeing Rhys like that, so he tucked the device away in his desk, saving it for whenever he would miss his sexy little rival.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little something written for my AU where Rhys is an optometrist and Jack is an ophthalmologist c:

Rhys was fairly surprised when the name  _Angel Lawrence_  appeared on his schedule for appointments for the following week. He avoided asking Jack about it, the man already busy with a dozen or so cataract surgeries and post-op appointments. So Rhys didn’t speak a word to the older man, merely marveling to himself until the day that Angel was scheduled. 

Jack was  _always_  teasing him with taunts about his profession, making it hard to believe that Jack had made an appointment with him. For his _daughter_. Who Rhys knew, rationally, existed, but who he had never seen before. If it weren’t for the information filed that was slipped to him before the appointment, he wouldn’t even have an idea how old she was. Jack looked old enough to have a daughter anywhere from twenty to three—the file told him, however, that Angel was seven, and reporting vision problems. Looking to get fitted for glasses, which made Rhys smirk. Not at a poor innocent child who probably couldn’t even see the leaves on trees, but at Jack for having to give in and actually see an optometrist when he was always mocking them. 

Honestly, though, Rhys was shocked that Jack in his stubborn nature could be moved, even if it was his daughter. Jack was the type to sneak into his office and hang his OD certificate upside down, and then laugh when it took Rhys a week to notice. Not the type to eat his words and go see an optometrist after spending nearly a year ragging on them to Rhys’ face—probably longer, Rhys couldn’t imagine that Jack was doing it  _specifically_  to bother him, that would be stupid. 

In any case, he would have figured Jack’s stubbornness would have lasted longer—at the very least, he had expected Jack to see another optometrist, maybe in a private business rather than the same clinic he worked—but perhaps he had pegged the man wrong, even after a year of working in adjacent departments. He snapped Angel’s file to his clipboard, knocking lightly on the correct door before opening it—half expecting to see someone who wasn’t Jack accompanying the child, but nope, there the ophthalmologist was, sitting with his arms crossed and his brows and lips creased in a frown that shifted from the floor to Rhys the moment the man walked in. 

“Hello hello everyone, how are we doing today?” The smirk that rose to his face slightly disrupted his usual greeting, not able to resist shooting Jack a smug glance that the man met with disdain. Rhys adjusted his teal glasses as he scanned the sheet, before giving a bright smile to the young, black-haired girl sitting in the seat next to Jack, clad in a yellow dress and squinting up at Rhys with bright, blue eyes. 

“You must be Angel! Nice to meet you, I’m Dr. Somerset. But you can call me Rhys, if you’d like.”’

“Oh yeah, my dad’s talked about you a _looooot_  before.” Rhys raised his eyebrow at Jack, who looked away with a slight snarl pulling at his lips. 

“All good things, I suppose?” Rhys asked, a taunting edge to his voice, his eyes lingering on Jack for a moment longer before turning back to Angel. 

“Of  _course._ ” Jack sounded restrained, biting his tongue in front of his daughter. It made the optometrist cackle inwardly. 

He made idle conversation with Angel as he set up the machines, the girl helping herself up into the chair as Jack watched, sitting at the edge of his own chair. Rhys laughed a bit as the child fussed about the tonometry machine, rubbing her eye as she scowled—which caused him to titter further, the resemblance to Jack all too clear now. 

“Oh yeah, everyone hates that one. Bet even your dad would find it annoying.” There was a huff of air from Jack, and Rhys could practically _hear_ the man rolling his eyes. 

“Please, it’s just a wimpy little puff of air in the eye.” The ophthalmologist dismissed. “Once you’ve popped needles into people’s eyes, everything else is  _child’s_ play.”

“Eww, dad, don’t talk about that stuff.” Angel looked up at Rhys with an exasperated look. “He always want to talk about gross work things when we have dinner.”

“He’s just a grumpy old man, isn’t he, Angel?” The child nodded, settling in as Rhys turned off the lights, bringing the phoropter up to her face. He could practically feel the ophthalmologist glaring daggers into his back as he began the examination. 

Angel was nearsighted—not badly, but Rhys still wanted to get her started on getting glasses. As soon as his examination finished, he led Angel and Jack over to the optical shop, standing by and showing Angel the variety of children’s frames and letting either her or Jack place them over her ears. Usually, Rhys didn’t do this, but he had lunch next instead of another appointment and—more than just showing up Jack, Rhys genuinely liked helping kids like Angel find the perfect frames for them. 

Angel cheerfully picked out a pair of purple glasses with little rhinestones on the rim, her excitement dimming slightly when Rhys told her it would take time to get the lens fitted, though he assured he would get them through and ready for her as quickly as he could. He even let her grab at his own glasses and gave her a little high five, all the while Jack watched, expression contemplative. 

“I guess…I guess this wasn’t  _so_  bad…” Jack grumbled, scratching the back of his head and looking sidelong at Rhys, who stood with a smug expression on his face—albeit one that was softer than before. “You may be a total wimp and a nerd, but…you’re pretty good with the kiddos.” Rhys smile softened even further as he stuck out his hand and to his surprise, Jack met it in a firm grip.

“Thank you, Jack.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone wanted a short thing of Rhys accidentally stabbing Jack. Very short but hopefully okay!

“Wow…you got a real arm on you, huh pumpkin? Right in the gut t-to…you’re a real killer, ain’t ya?” 

“G-God, Jack, shut the _fuck_  up, I swear…” Rhys whimpered as he pressed his hands into the bleeding wound in Jack’s side, trying to well it up with a piece of his torn vest. He had been so wound up, so attuned to all the sounds of potential danger on Pandora, that he’d struck without thinking, burying the rusted knife in his hand deep into Jack’s stomach. And now he was panicking, tears brimming in his eyes even as Jack seemed amused by the whole thing. Rhys didn’t understand why at all, because Jack was bleeding really badly, and the PA didn’t think the whole situation was funny at all. 

“I gotta t-tell ya, Rhysie, didn’t think after bandits and vaulter hunters and monsters and all that shit…that I’d be done in by a punk PA with a butter knife…” Jack chuckled weakly, blood dribbling from his lips as Rhys panicked, brushing the sweaty hair out of the man’s face. 

“I told you to shut  _up_ , Jack, you’re not dying. T-The knife wasn’t even that sharp! Come on, Jack.” Rhys trembled angrily, trying to keep a solid hold on the shirt against Jack’s middle in a desperate attempt to staunch the blood. Why,  _why_  was there so much? It had been a dull, rusted knife he had found off of a mummified bandit corpse, its edges nicked and blunted with dried blood. There was no way something like that could take Jack out. No way that knife and Rhys’ panicked,  _stupid_  reaction could kill him. 

“Come on, handsome, don’t do this to me. You said yourself, you survived b-bandits, vault hunters and….a-a  _lot_  of stuff, Jack, you can’t let this happen!” Rhys gritted his teeth furiously, kicking himself as his crush and hero bled out under his fingers. And it was all his fault. All his fault, and Jack was still smiling, still grinning up at him even with blood staining between his teeth. 

“S-stop smiling, you  _idiot_ , just concentrate on not dying on me, okay?” Rhys hissed, his free robotic hand reaching to grasp Jack’s limp one even as the man chuckled weakly. Rhys stayed as close as he could, even as Jack’s form was loaded into a shuttle and taken back up to Helios, where he could hopefully be saved, and fast.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise Rhysothy? Putting it here because I have ideas for this AU that technically also include Rhack. Lol. 
> 
> Warnings for: omega verse, experimentation, surgery gore, and nonconsensual body-modification.

Tim watches helplessly from the other side of the glass, his white-walled room positioned right next to where the Hyperion scientists were surrounding Rhys’ prone form. He feels anger and sorrow course through him at the sight of the man, the way the flesh of his stomach had been peeled away and pinned aside, vulnerable organs poked and prodded as the surgeons go about their experiment. He barely contains himself from pounding on the glass in rage with the knowledge that the scientists are wrist deep inside the man’s body.

Tim has never been under the knife, the bulk in his frame and the tweaked aggressiveness accomplished only through injections and social conditioning, and yet this is the second time Rhys has been subjected to the mad surgeries. Tim had watched last time, too, as Rhys had been secured facedown on the table while his neck was opened up, the bloodied cream of his spine exposed to Tim’s horrified eyes as an artificial bonding site had been grafted onto the column. Rhys had wanted to itch at his stitches so badly after that, once he had been placed back into the containment room, whining about how there was something under his skin, and it felt weird, and  _Tim, please, get it out, make it stop._

Tim doesn’t understand why he’s allowed to watch, why the scientists in the operating room and the ones undoubtedly observing him don’t chase him away from the glass, or shock the collar around his neck until the man is a drooling, begging mess on the cold linoleum. 

Maybe it’s a part of their sick tests—after all, Tim still has electrodes buried in his temples and chest, and he swears he can smell Rhys, and it’s prickling his hackles, making him bare his teeth and growl as he watches them cut into Rhys. The urge to  _protect_ and  _claim_ courses through him as he watches the scientists touch the man, rooting around inside of him, delicately grafting freshly cloned organs into him. Tim snarls, hot breath fogging up the glass, and he doesn’t realize that he’s cracked his fist against the barrier between himself and Rhys until the collar around his neck is finally buzzing, sending him choking and sobbing to the floor. He writhes, back arching and tears streaming from his eyes until it stops. 

Tim doesn’t dare approach the glass again, instead huddled in the corner while his throat and fist throb. He sleeps, eats, and takes his injections like a good subject, only moving from the spot when Rhys is finally returned to the room, doped up with painkillers and with a long, brutal scar over his soft abdomen to match the one on his neck. 

Tim wraps his arms around Rhys and holds him tight, trying to ignore just how  _good_  Rhys smells.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some bad wrong Rhack written for someone on Tumblr who wanted Rhys to be used as stress relief by Jack. 
> 
> Warnings for dubcon and mindbroken Rhys

Pandora is ugly. Ugly and wretched and its people even more so. And sure, it’s fun for Jack to watch them scream and run in pathetic circles as he plucks out their tongues or rips out their eyes or has his men reduce them to red mist, but it can’t compare to the pleasure from wrecking something  _beautiful_. 

Finally, after hours of working, Jack has no further meetings, no more time wasted pretending to care about trembling, sniveling waifs of middle management and meat-headed executives. Finally, Jack could retreat into his more private, most intimate sanctum, and enjoy something  _wonderful_. 

The room is small, much smaller than his office, one wall still opened onto Elpis to let the moon’s soft, purple glow glaze all over the room and its solitary inhabitant. 

He lays by the window, all naked long legs and skin littered with bruises and scars both healing and fresh. Despite this, he is resting peacefully, curled up on a comfortable looking pillow next to the window. The very sight takes Jack’s breath away and sends heat straight to his crotch, a thrill running through him at the thought of disturbing the man’s peaceful rest.

“Rhysie.” He coos, voice falsely gentle as he kneels next to the man, grasping the chain attached to the gold and black collar around Rhys’ neck, jerking him awake as he drags the chain upwards. Rhys wakes with a start, eyes widening as he lets out a pitiful sound. His hands claw weakly at his throat, fingers trying to hook into the collar though it is far too closely bound to his neck to allow for that. Jack hushes him softly, letting go of the chain only to cup Rhys’ face in his hands, leaning in to the man’s personal bubble. 

“Shhh, pretty boy, Jackie’s got you, all right?” He scrapes his teeth against the pale skin of Rhys’ neck, biting in as he presses between the man’s legs, Rhys’ willingly going slack as Jack’s bulk towers over him. Pliant and needy with the slightest show of dominance from the older man. 

His Rhys is more than just a toy. Toys are meant to be broken, and sure, he had had fun breaking Rhys in the beginning. But then he realized the joy in perfecting and preserving the man for Jack’s eyes only. 

And Rhys  _is_  perfect, perfect and compliant and wonderful warm and ready from the moment Jack’s sinks into him to the moment he’s messy and sloppy and full of Jack’s release. The man shudders as he pushes into his Rhys underneath the eerie glow of Elpis, Rhys so slick and warm and crying out nonsense as Jack grabs at him roughly, pinning his shoulders down on the cushion as he bends him in half with his hips. Rhys whimpers out in pain or pleasure, Jack doesn’t bother differentiating which, his soft belly creasing as Jack forces him to bend, his knees against the CEO’s shoulders as he trembles and drools onto his pillow. 

Rhys understands few words, and responds to even less. He still knows the cardinal directions—up, down, back, and son on, and he understands “beg” and “suck” and “come.” 

The only thing he can say is Jack’s name.

“Jack, Jack  _Jack_ —“ Rhys sobs, legs and cock twitching, his only hand grasping uselessly at the fabric of the cushion beneath him the only ballast he can garner with his hazy brain and the unbearably force of Jack’s thrusts. The CEO groans, voice sounding like it’s coming from his loins as he screws the pliant man beneath him, using his warm, tight body to release all the tension that’d built up through the day, all his frustration with idiot employees and scraping filthy, Pandoran scum off the surface of their own planet. Watching Rhys crumble, disturbed from his rest, his peaceful slumber punctured at the end of Jack’s cock—it makes the whole damn thing seem worthwhile. 

It’s not long before Jack spills his load into the man beneath him, the jerks of his hips enough to make Rhys come on his own, untouched by Jack’s hand. Release splatters on his stomach and soaks his insides, spilling out of him when Jack pulls out—only to thrust back in again, making Rhys sob and throw back his head with a wail of  _Jack_  as his oversensitive body trembles. Jack shudders, bracing his hands on both sides of the man’s head as he lodges himself into Rhys’ sloppy, loose warmth, the tightness around him soft and assured like a warm embrace. Tears break in the corner of the Rhys’ eyes, spilling down his cheeks as his body shudders with the overwhelming sensation. Jack merely smirks, leaning in and kissing away the wetness from the man’s pink skin.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just something ridiculous and silly that my friend and boyfriend wanted me to write. Just ooc dumb things with Jack calling his own name during sex and Rhys flirting with Vasquez in order to steal his coat. It doesn't really make sense but....oh well

Rhys had always known that Handsome Jack was a narcissist. That much information could be conveyed in his name alone—no one overflowing with humility would ever stick the word “handsome” in front of their name. 

Rhys wasn’t entirely surprised, figuring that it kind of came with the territory when you were in charge of  _everything_  and that your name was spoken even in the darkest, most distant portions of the galaxy. Someone who could resist getting a swelled head in that position was probably barely even human. 

Even though Jack insisted that Rhys was a whiny little sub, he seemed to be deaf to his own tirade of moans and pants and soft growls of _yeah_  and  _baby_  whenever he fucked the young man. Rhys had started to pay attention to them after Jack had engaged in some curious and certainly  _colorful_  profanities mid-coitus. And considering that the older man—shockingly—tended to last awhile, Rhys found himself paying attention to every detail of the CEO, from the soft scratch of his hands to the way his hair fell in strands across his forehead to, yeah, the way that Jack spoke when he thought Rhys was too blissed out too be listening. 

But Rhys hadn’t been expecting him to he as self absorbed as to say something like  _this_.

“What the hell?” The young man gasped out, batting at Jack’s shoulders with an insistent hiss. Jack growled, trying to pin Rhys back down as he struggled, but the man shoved Jack hard in the shoulder with his cybernetic palm, prompting the man to rear back with an irritated look.

“ _What_?”

“Are you kidding me, Jack?” Rhys shouted, kicking away at the man above him with a furious pout. He winced as Jack slipped out of him, but he was too annoyed to care. “What do you mean,  _what_? Did you just listen to what you said?”

“I….I don’t know! Come on, Rhysie, don’t be like this.”

Jack scowled, looking down at his sloppy, still hard cock as he tried to move forward. But Rhys scooted away from him on the bed, the look in his eyes absolutely withering. 

“You called your own name? Are you fuckin’ serious?” He watched as Jack opened and closed his mouth dumbly, his brows furrowing. 

“I…Fuck! Kitten, I don’t know, it just kind of slipped out!” Jack growled, gesturing to his own loose cock, “And that’s not the only thing…”

“No! I’m not letting you fuck me again! I can’t believe you!” Rhys shot back as he kicked a leg out warningly at Jack, shifting over to the edge of the bed and quickly getting up, scrounging around for his clothing while Jack made annoyed, pouting noises on the bed.

“Come on, Rhys, don’t be  _stupid_ …” Jack tried to croon, reaching out to run his fingers over Rhys’ turned over backside, but the young man snapped up straight and shot Jack a look. 

“Yeah, okay, I’m not the one stupid enough to not remember the name of the person they’re fucking…” Rhys hissed as he pulled on his pants, swaying a little with the sudden soreness radiating from his lower back as he straightened up and zipped them up. He messily pulled on his shirt, wanting to get out of Jack’s sight as quickly as possible while he was still feeling so aggravated. The older man was now sitting cross legged on the bed, his cock still out and hard in his palm as he scowled, seemingly unsure over whether he should finish himself off or keep badgering Rhys to get back into bed. It gave Rhys a little bit of vindication to see him like this, the most powerful man in the galaxy looking like a confused puppy who had just been told no. It felt nice to punish Jack for once, even if it was for something that was more of an annoyance, rather than an actual problem. 

As Rhys finished buckled up his shoes and made a move towards the door, Jack snarled and gritted his teeth, punching one clenched fist hard into one of the pillows. 

“ _Fine_ , kiddo, I didn’t want to fuck your flat ass anyway!” Jack snarled and then hurled the pillow at Rhys, which the young man deflected by sharply closing the door, the pillow harmlessly bouncing off. Rhys rolled his eyes as he heard the angry  _thud_ of Jack flopping back against the bed from the other side of the door.  _Whatever_. If Jack wanted to throw a fucking tantrum than Rhys didn’t want to be around for that. Let Jack tear apart his own penthouse in his stupid anger, Rhys didn’t care. He was out the door soon enough, riding down the elevator back to the main body of Helios, leaving his lover to dwell on his own dumb mistake. 

It wasn’t until Rhys was walking towards his own apartment that he realized that he had left his vest in Jack’s room, the cold, artificial air of the space station biting through the thin fabric of his shirt and making the thin, gangly man shiver slightly. _Damn it._  Well, there was no way that he was going to go all the way back to Jack’s penthouse in order to get his jacket after the display that he’d just given him. No way, Rhys was going to stand his ground and not go back until Jack had properly apologized. 

So he continued to suffer, dreading each time he passed by one of the whirring air conditioners that pumped more chilly air against the man’s frame. He crossed his arms, rubbing them aggressively and trying to warm himself up. Stupid Helios. Stupid Jack. He was lost in his thoughts about how annoyed he was with his lover, when he suddenly felt a broad hand on his hip. 

“Looking’ a little chilly there, Rhys. What happened?” Came a low, deep voice from just behind Rhys’ ear, prompting the young man to jump slightly, goosebumps tinging up the back of his neck as he turned around. Rhys initially narrowed his eyes, when he saw Vasquez, way too close to him, their chests nearly brushing up together and the older man’s hand still settled on Rhys hip. The young man felt his lip curl into a pout as he looked the other man up and down, taking in the smirk on Vasquez’s face 

“It’s….it’s none of your business, Hugo.” He crossed his arms tighter over his chest, a little more defensively. 

“Aw, come on there Rhys. Don’t be like that. I just want to help you out.”

Usually, Rhys would have spurned Vasquez more harshly, told him to fuck off and leave him alone because the man had been way too creepily into him for too long, but…his eyes fell to the jacket draped around Vasquez’s forearm, his thoughts drifting to just how  _warm_  it looked. It was different than the jacket that the man usually wore. It was a dark grey-brown, striped with a lighter shade and adorn with little gold buttons along the cuffs and breast. It had cream colored looking wool around the collar, and there was even a tag hanging from the sleeve. Huh. He must’ve just bought it…An idea slowly formed in the young man’s head, a coy smile spreading across his lips. Vasquez had been chasing him for awhile, and Rhys had always brushed him away, but maybe he could use the man’s smarmy infatuation to his favor. 

“You want to help me out, hm….? Well, I can think of a few ways.” Rhys smirked, letting out a soft chuckle as he reached forward to run his fingers over the fabric of the jacket draped around Vasquez’s arm.  _Oh_ , that felt nice, like high-quality skag leather except softer. He couldn’t wait to have that draped around his shivering frame. 

“Oh?” Vasquez raised his eyebrows, a sly smile spreading across his face, the skin around his eyes crinkling mischievously. Rhys canted his hip subtlety to the side, his fingers running down Vasquez’ forearm to settle over his heavily-ringed hand. 

“This is a nice-looking jacket. How much was it?” Rhys purred out, lithe fingers softly turning around one of Vasquez’s ring. He saw the man swallow out of the periphery of his eyes. 

“Oh…I would say about…two thousand…something like that.” Vasquez let out a little chuckle. “I mean, I buy so many things like this, it’s a little hard to keep track of.”

“No kidding.” Rhys hummed, running his fingers back over the leather. “How about you let me try it on?” 

Rhys was almost alarmed with the speed at which Vasquez had unfolded the jacket from across his arms, straightening it out and holding it up to the young man. Rhys kept the coy smile on his face, lowering his lids softly as he turned around, easing his arms into the sleeves. He went to straighten the jacket about his form only to find Vasquez doing it for him, arranging the wool collar about his throat and pulling the coat further around his form. It was definitely too big for him, the cuffs hanging heavily around his knuckles and the shoulders crumbling a little around his lither frame. But it was warm, the thick, wooly lining encasing his torso and immediately bringing relief to the previously shivering young man. 

“Looks good on you. My cute little muffin.” Vasquez purred softly, running his broad hands up and down Rhys’ upper arms. “I could get used to seeing you in my clothes. What do you think?”

“Mmm. Maybe. If they’re as warm as this is, I might have to consider it.” Rhys whispered coyly, too pleased to finally be warm again 

“Uh, Rhys? My jacket?” Vasquez asked, grasping the cuff of his jacket and tugging Rhys softly back. The young man simply glanced over his shoulder, pouting his lips together. 

“Hugo, you don’t want me to freeze on the way home, do you?” Rhys pulled a little, the cuff coming free from Vasquez’s loose grasp. He watched the man’s throat bob, eyes widening softly. 

“I….I suppose not.”

“I’ll come by and give it back to you in your office tomorrow. It’s a date, all right?” Oh, the way Vasquez’s eyes glittered at that made exhilaration run through Rhys. It was kind of fun being the one to put all these older, confident men in their place today. He could get used to it. 

He left Vasquez with a smile, the man still blushing softly and stock still as he watched hungrily after the young man sauntering off with his jacket. Rhys could barely contain his chuckling—he’d made off with an expensive, sexy-looking and  _warm_  jacket with just a little flirting. 

_And_  wearing another man’s coat would definitely work to his favor next time he saw Jack—perhaps he could even manipulate the man’s jealousy in order to force him to apologize for earlier.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sugar daddy AU commission for a user on Tumblr! Rhys goading Jack, and Jack "punishing" him by spanking him and fucking him. Enjoy!

While Jack checked up on Hyperion’s financial status almost daily, he only looked up his personal accounts about once a week. It was stupid to try to steal from or sabotage Hyperion, but even _stupider_ to steal from Handsome Jack himself, and considering he had some of the best anti-fraud protection that his heaps and heaps of money could buy, he didn’t worry himself too much about it.

He was relaxing in his office one Friday afternoon, mind already swimming with plans for the weekend. He had already toed off his shoes underneath his desk as he idly browsed his accounts on his tablet, his other hand cradling a delicate crystal glass full of a fine bourbon from his office’s liquor cabinet. He felt like a rich motherfucker as he checked on his transactions from the week, his back facing the glorious, glowing view of the city of Helios in early sunset, expensive alcohol settling warm in his belly. Expensive alcohol that he nearly spat out all over the equally expensive tablet screen when he came across a _massive_ charge on his personal card that he knew he hadn’t made. Jack swallowed his booze painfully before setting the glass and tablet down and yanking out his wallet from his pocket, flicking through the various cards and trying to find the heavy, bright gold one he reserved for only select personal purchases, only to find it _missing_. 

Jack’s brain quickly jumped to the worst conclusions, before he methodically slowed himself down and tried to focus on who even had the opportunity or the _balls_ to not only use his money, but also steal his personal card straight from his wallet—and then realization hit him like a meteor.

He tossed the wallet towards half-full glass and grabbed at his tablet, quickly messaging Rhys with an expression confused between a scowl and a wolfish grin. _Ooooohhhhh_ if Rhys really was the one who had stolen from him, then he had a _lot_ of plans for his sassy little sugar baby. 

Rhys texted him back that he would be up to Jack’s office promptly, his usual mix of emojis and proper punctuation not belying that he knew anything about _why_ Jack was calling him up. But Rhys was a clever little thing, more than just an air-headed gold-digger who wanted a slice of Jack’s money and an assful of cock—not that he _didn’t_ want those things, but still. 

Jack spread his legs and leaned back into his chair with a leathery _creak_ , retrieving his glass of bourbon from the desk and waiting for the kid to bumble his way up to his office. The taste was thick and acrid on his tongue, his mouth and brain humming as he downed the liquor and settled with playing with the glass, sliding it around in its own condensation until there was the electronic _beep_ indicating that someone was outside of his office. Jack mashed the button under his desk and the doors slid open, revealing Rhys’ tall, lanky form as the young man strode into his office. 

“What’s this all about, Jack? I was having lunch with my friends, so this better be important.” There was that _lip_ again. Rhys had always had a bit of a bite to him, ever since they had first met, but his latent catty insubordination wasn’t anything like they’d had between them in the past. Jack narrowed his eyes and watched as Rhys crossed his arms and canted his hips, acting more like a spoiled teenager than a grown adult. 

“Well?” 

Jack growled at the young man’s insolence, leaning forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the desk and dangling the glass from his fingers. 

“ _Well_ ,” Jack mocked in a voice higher than Rhys’ own register, “you want to tell me why I have a $7,000 dollar charge on my personal card, Rhysie? _And_ why my personal card is missing?”

Jack’s mouth twitched as he watched Rhys’ eyes widen, the boy’s tongue flicking anxiously over his lips. He watched as Rhys tried recovering with a bratty huff and a roll of his eyes, but the slight coloring to the boy’s cheeks didn’t leave Jack’s notice. 

“How am I supposed to know that?”

“Bullshit, Rhysie. I know you did it, so why don’t you just come clean?” Jack shot back, lifting the glass to his lips and taking a watered-down sip before bitterly smacking his lips and resting it back down. 

“Come to think of it, you’ve been getting a _little_ out of hand recently in general. Talking back, refusing to come over when I tell you to…and you called me during a meeting with Torgue when I specifically told you I was busy….why _are_ you acting like this, kitten?” Jack growled as he kept playing with the glass on his desk, turning it in a wet circle as the light from the sun behind him danced on the crystal. 

“Ohhh, I don’t _knooooow_. Maybe if you just gave me what I wanted, Jack, I wouldn’t have to do it myself.”

By now, Jack knew the whole canon of Rhys’ behaviors, and he knew that if the kid was acting outside of that, then he must be planning _something_. Rhys was smart, and knew how to act to get what he wanted from men twice his age and with three times as much power, but Jack was _smarter_. 

Sure, Jack was going to give Rhys was he wanted, but only because it also benefited Jack. And he could easily keep the upper hand while satisfying Rhys’ whims. 

So, with his eyes still fixed on the boy’s pouting glare, Jack wheeled his chair back away from the desk, reclining with his legs spread out as he pointed down to his lap with a firm hand. 

“All right, that’s enough,” Jack growled. “Come here, Rhys. _Now_.”

He saw the boy worrying his pink lips, eyes flitting about anxiously before Jack pounded his glass on the surface of his desk, causing Rhys to jump and flit forward. As soon as the young man was close enough, Jack’s hand shot out and grabbed his wrist, yanking Rhys forward until the boy’s legs nudged into Jack’s knee. Jack pressed his other hand on Rhys back, bending him in half over Jack’s lap with a growl. Rhys let out a strangled whimper as Jack appraised him with a steely glance, running his broad hand over the pretty fabric of Rhys’ shirt—a light turquoise, delicately embroidered over with slightly darker patterns of paisley. He cast his eyes over the boy’s entire outfit, now that it was under his hands, feeling Rhys’ breath quicken against his thighs as Jack ran his fingers over his spine. 

“Oh, will you look at this…” He stroked his hand, feeling every little bump of Rhys’ vertebrate. “Is this what you’ve been buying with daddy’s money, sweetheart?”

He grasped Rhys belt between two fingers, yanking the man’s pants down over his ass in one swift movement. His eyes widened as his boy’s ass came into view, the fat pale cheeks of his ass squeezed in a pair of delicate, sparkly aqua panties. Jack barely suppressed a groan of pleasure, trying to keep the confident, dominant exterior up a little longer—he _was_ supposed to be punishing Rhys after all. Still, he let himself run his hand over the smooth skin of Rhys’ ass, hooking his finger underneath his panties and pulling it taunt, liking how the fabric dug ever so slightly into the boy’s soft flesh. 

“Well, I do like when my special boy wears such pretty little surprises but…you’ve still been _bad_ , kitten, and I gotta punish you.” Jack purred, feeling Rhys shudder as he snapped Rhys’ panties back against his skin. The older man smirked, raising his hand aloft before bringing it down _hard_ on one of Rhys’ supple cheeks. 

The cry that tore from Rhys’ mouth when Jack spanked him was pure music to the man’s ears, ringing through his whole body before pooling in his crotch. He rubbed his fingers over the red mark against Rhys’ ass, before raising his hand and again smacking it against his cheeks. 

Jack could hear the toe of Rhys’ heeled boots slide against the floor as his body jerked with each slap. Rhys panted whenever Jack took a moment to appreciate the reddening skin on the boy’s ass, raising his head with a questioning whimper that quickly turned into a pealing cry as Jack smacked him even harder. The man’s rings bit into Rhys’ flesh with every slap, creating an even darker mark at the core of the the bright red smack. 

Jack wasn’t going to let up, continuing to spank Rhys’ ass raw and drawing the most delicious little mewls and gasps from the young man. Even when there was a buzz at the office door, Jack didn’t let up, inviting whatever poor peon had to speak with him in. Rhys tried to stifle a low whine and curl up around Jack’s lap, but the man continued to smack the boy’s ass even as he spoke to the red-faced employee, who stammered out his request for a few moments before cutting himself off and quickly excusing himself back out the door. 

Rhys let out a pathetic whimper, hiding his flushed face even as the door clicked shut, leaving him and Jack alone again. The CEO peered down at the boy draped over his lap, his bare ass marred with evidence of the spanking. He could feel Rhys getting hard against his leg, soft little pants coming from the young man’s mouth as he rutted with every slap from Jack’s hand, every red mark and bruise left on that pale round flesh. 

Finally, Jack stopped, resting his hand against the boy’s ass, rubbing with a newfound care as Rhys whimpered at the friction against his tender skin. Rhys had finally started to go limp in Jack’s arms when suddenly the man was wrenching him upright. Rhys moaned out in pain as Jack settled him onto his lap, only for the young man to be shoved forward, stumbling on his shaky legs before he fell against the edge of the desk. 

Jack was up and pressing against Rhys in an instant, his hands holding the boy’s hips against the edge of the desk as his eyes raked up and down Rhys’ form. Rhys draped himself over the surface of the desk, chest pressed against the desk’s surface as he lay there, tired and sore but still so _needy_. He pressed his fingers against the fine wood and rocked his hips forward, trying to rub his clothed cock against the edge of the desk even as Jack held him firm. 

Jack peeled the lacy blue panties away from Rhys hole, dragging his tongue over his own thumb and forefinger before jamming both appendages into the young man’s ass. Rhys let out a strangled noise of pleasure and pain as Jack works into him without mercy, spreading his fingers inside of him as Rhys clawed at the desk. 

“J- _Jaaack_ , please—“

“You’ll get lube if you’re good, kitten. Hang tight. Heh. _Tight_.” Jack snickered as he shoved his fingers in deeper, making Rhys’ heels slide uselessly against the floor of his office. Jack idly cupped the man’s bruised asscheek, stroking over the swollen flesh with an appreciative eye. 

“Beg for it, baby. Come on. Beg me to use lube on you. Make me believe you really are sorry for being a sassy little thing and spending daddy’s money like that.” He added another dry finger into Rhys’ hole, relishing in the pained whimpers that came from the boy as Jack roughly stretched him out. Rhys turned his head, looking back at Jack, his mouth hanging open with the pink of his tongue peeking beyond his teeth. His cheeks were bright red, tears brimming in the corners of his eyes as they rolled up to meet the CEO’s hungry gaze. 

“ _Please_ , Jack….I’m s-sorry, daddy, please, f-fuck me!” Rhys moaned out, voice broken by little pants and hitches wrought by Jack’s harsh, dry movements in and out of his ass. The older man narrowed his eyes, curling his fingers inside of Rhys before roughly ripping them out of his ass and shoving him harder against the desk as he scuffled around in one of the drawers, pulling out a crushed tube of lubricant.

Jack deftly drizzled lube over his cock, sliding the shaft between Rhys’ soft cheeks and slicking up the area around his hole. Rhys clenched his ass tightly, trying to keep Jack’s cock pressed up against him, wanting more and now and _inside_. To his pleasure Jack didn’t wait much longer, grabbing fistfuls of Rhys’ ass and spreading him wide before easing the fat tip of his cock into the young man’s hole. 

Rhys let out a loud cry of _yes_ as Jack finally slammed deep inside of him, filling him up with one rough thrust. He dug his fingers into the desk, arching his belly against the cold surface as Jack started up a brutal pace, fucking the boy hard and making his heavy desk rock and scrape against the floor. 

Rhys whimpered and panted heavily, hoarsely calling out _yes, yes, more_ as he was thrust hard against the edge of the desk. Jack’s hips slapping against his tender and bruised ass hurt, friction stinging the flesh torn by Jack’s ring as the older man’s skin rubbed up against it.

Rhys didn’t last much longer, not with all the buildup and teasing from the spanking. He soon let out a high-pitched cry as he rutted against the desk, legs wobbling as he came all over the glossy surface. Jack didn’t let up, pinning the boy’s boneless body by the neck and fucking him through the oversensitivity of his orgasm until he swore and knit his eyebrows together, burying himself deep inside of the boy as he filled him up with cum. 

Jack kept his hand heavy over Rhys’ neck as he slowed his breathing, letting the orgasm wash over him before settling warm and content in his stomach. He chuckled, gradually relaxing the iron grip on the nape of the boy’s neck, his fingers slating through Rhys’ damp locks. 

“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” Jack shook his head, running his other hand through his own sweat-soaked hair. Rhys laughed, turning his head to the side and sending the older man a mischievous look that danced on his fucked-out face.

“Mmmm, you’ve been _soooo_ busy lately, I had to do _something_ to get you to notice me.” Rhys smiled smugly and closed his eyes as he nuzzled against the cool surface of Jack’s desk, before cracking one eyelid back open. “And I know how much you can’t resist ‘punishing’ me.”

“Is that so?” Jack chuckled, slowly tugging his cock out of Rhys’ ass, resting the shaft against him as spent cum drooled from the tip. “So, have you learned your lesson yet, pumpkin, or do I have to hammer it in a _little_ harder?”

Rhys’ face cracked into an eager smile, his eyes sparkling with lust as his shifted his hips against the cock settled against his bruised ass. 

“I’m not so sure…I think I need a little more for it to really _sink in,_ you know?” Rhys rubbed his rear against Jack’s cock, biting his lip as he felt the man’s spent cock twitch again in interest. 

“So what do you say, daddy?”

 


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a very quick idea about Rhys asking Jack to break his mind so he doesn't have to feel all the terrible things they've done together as co-CEOs. Idk, just something very small!

Rhys begs him, with his voice scoured in pain and breaking madness, to make it all go away. He scrubbed at invisible blood on his fingers as he wrings his hands and presses his face into Jack’s shoulder as if he can smother the memories of all the lives they’ve ruined together. 

Jack agrees, at first, because the haunting pain in Rhys’ eyes is so terrible that he just wants it to _go away,_ wants to tear the agony from Rhys’ mind and iron his conscious flat as a sheet of paper. 

He keeps Rhys alone in a room attached to his office, keeps him there every hours of every day completely isolated save for a scant period where he sits by the bound man’s side, stroking his hair and cooing to him, hands pulling softly at his scalp as they wend through the mussed locks. And Rhys looks up to him with eyes that are still too bright, that still shine with all the cunning and cutthroat behavior that’s brought hundreds of men and women to their knees and graves, so Jack tosses him back to the floor and shuts off the light and locks the door for another day. 

Finally, he comes into the room and flicks on the light and Rhys crawls up to him on all fours, letting out mindless little mewls as Jack cradles his face in one hand and look at those eyes–utterly vacant, flatly blinking at Jack as he nuzzles into his warm palm and lets out a needy keen. 

And as the empty, shallow-eyed shell of the man he’d once loved–the man who he swore would always be standing at his right hand–kneels at his feet, Jack feels sick to his stomach. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Goretober request on Tumblr where Rhys gets harvested for his cybernetics by Pandorans c;

“Oh ho, oh _man_ , you guys are going to regret this! Jack’s going to tear you apart, just you wait!” Rhys threatened, trying to suppress the warble of fear that was rising up in his voice as he railed against the bandits that had captured him. He struggled as his body was being forced down into a filthy looking hospital bed, thick belts tightening over his chest and hips as he was strapped against it. Rhys snapped his teeth angrily at the hand that tightened the belt over his chest, missing and biting into his already split lip. He settled for spitting a glob of blood at the bandit surgeon, but the man flicked it off his face like it was an insect.

“Maybe I should rip our your tongue too, Hyperion trash. Maybe I could sell it to someone for soup…probably taste like shit, but at least it’d shut you up.” The surgeon growled, pushing a metal speculum against Rhys’ ECHOeye, holding it open. The blue flickered about wildly, trying in vain to find some route of escape, but asides from activating Jack’s tracking device there was nothing else for Rhys to do other than try to stall for time.

“Ha ha ha….you guys are going to be so fucking sorry….just wait ’til Jack finds you! He’s going to kill you all for doing this!” Rhys voice pitched into a warning lilt, trying desperately to convince the bandits that this wasn’t worth it, Jack’s ire wasn’t worth tearing into him for parts. The young man’s chest heaved, his blood running cold as the bandit snapped on a worn looking rubber glove. 

“By the time Jack comes, we’ll be long gone. You might be too, so.” The bandit shrugged, wheeling a small metal table closer to the bed. Rhys’ eyes twitched over the cruel looking metal devices scattered over the table, some shiny, some rusted with dried blood. More panicked laughs came from Rhys’ throat as the surgeon grasped a small, scoop shaped tool and placed the cold metal against the crease between Rhys’ eye and eyelid. Rhys steeled himself, wet terrified giggles tearing from his throat as he tryied to stay calm, even as warm tears starting to well up in his eyes.

* * *

As it turned out, the surgeon was half right.

Jack came long after the bandits had stolen away from the dingy, blood-soaked room with their prizes. But as the King of Hyperion stormed in and saw the body lying limp and strapped down to the bed, he found that Rhys was still alive.

His arm had been brutally torn from his side, leaving blood and snapped circuitry to trickle from the mangled shoulder attachment Jack felt his rage building as he surveyed his lover’s form, from the bloody arm stump to the empty, twitching socket of his eye where the severed robotic nerve dangled uselessly over the man’s pallid cheek. Rhys’ face gave an ugly twitch, and the nerve swept a line of blood over his skin.

Rhys’ voice was caught somewhere between a delirious laugh and a whimper, the breathy sounds coming out of him with every rapid movement of his chest. His remaining eye was wide and bloodshot, barely seeing Jack even as he spoke to him.

“I’m going to kill them….ha…ha ha, Jack….I’m going to kill them, I-I’m going to k-kill them all!”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little suggestive Halloween stuff with bottom Jack~

Jack hisses, his hands fisting uselessly in the bright red binds that held them to the headboard, leaving him largely helpless as Rhys sat between his legs. The younger man had draped his tan thighs over his hips, looking absolutely devilish as he leered down at Jack–which was appropriate, considering the bright red lingerie and sparkly horns atop his head. Jack was pretty sure he’d seen a sleek little tail clipped to the back of his panties before he had been shoved to the bed and bound. The little tips of fangs appear behind Rhys’ crimson red lips every time the young man takes in a deep breath. 

“Looks like my pretty little angel was hiding a secret, huh…” Jack breaths huskily as Rhys’ hands–still clothed in the white gloves he’d been wearing for his previous costume–slid down his legs, one going to stroke at his half hard cock while he tugged the glove off the other with his teeth, before reaching for the bottle of pumpkin-scented lube he’d placed on the sheets. 

“It was my little trick…” Rhys smirks, his now slick fingers tickling down Jack’s taint towards his ass, quickly delving between his snug cheeks, “now, I hope you’re ready for your _treat_.”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Halloween fluff requests with Jack eating too much of Angel's candy <3

“ _Goooooooddddd_ why? What did I do to deserve this?” Jack moaned from his place on the couch, a forearm thrown dramatically over his forehead. Rhys sat down next to him with a sigh, maybe plopping onto the cushion a bit more forcefully than he usually would, just for Jack to wince and tug the rucked up sweater back over his stomach. 

“Well, you snuck candy from your daughter’s trick or treating stash, for one.”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t even _like_ the ones I ate. Just tryin’ to reduce waste, cupcake. Save the environment.”

“What kind of kid doesn’t like Snickers or Reese’s? I’m sure she would have eaten them soon enough…” Rhys rested one of the mugs of hot, lemon-ginger tea onto the coffee table well within Jack’s reach. The man snorted and lowered his arm from his face, looking at Rhys’ petulantly.

“Think daddy needs a belly rub, kitten. _C’moooon_.” Rhys rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his tea and trying to ignore the man who started insistently poking at his butt. 

“Don’t make me sit on you, Jack, I’m pretty sure all that candy would come right back up.” Rhys teased, scooting away from his pissy boyfriend as Jack grumbled and reached over for his mug, taking a reluctant sip of the tea as he tried to stave off the nausea. 


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for an "I love you" prompt on Tumblr! Jack showing Rhys his face for the first time. c:

“Jack….please, let me in…”

It had been an accident. Rhys had thought Jack was joking when he shouted at Rhys not to open the door to the bedroom, and had come in anyway, a coy smile on his face that had wiped away almost instantly as he looked at Jack and realized that the man didn’t have his mask on. Both of them had frozen in place before, and Rhys had watched in shock as something took over Jack’s face that he’d never seen there before– _fear_. 

In the next instant Jack was gone, footsteps thundering against the floor, capped with a sharp _slam_  and click of the bathroom door shutting and locking. Rhys’ stood rooted to the spot for just a moment longer, processing what had just happened–what he had just _seen_ –before he bolted to the bathroom door and jiggled the doorknob in a futile attempt to get it open. He swore to himself, wondering if he should just wrench it open with his cybernetic hand, only for Jack’s gruff, coarse voice to cut across his thoughts. 

“You open that door and I _will_  friggin’ kill you, kid.” Rhys froze, his fingers steadily dropping from the knob and fanning against the door. He frowned, letting out a sigh. 

“Jack…c’mon.”

“ _No_. Get outta here.”

“Jack, please, come out.”

“You deaf, kiddo?” Jack roared, the fury and anguish ini his voice rattling even the thick wood of the door. Rhys felt it tremble under his fingers, but he tried to hold firm. He worried his lip, wondering what to do.

“Jack, I…do you think I care what you look like….under all that?” Rhys whispered against the wood, unsure if he was even audible. The image of Jack looking at him, wide-eyed and undeniably _scared_  as Rhys saw his true face burned in his mind. Rhys knocked his forehead against the door with a frown.

“Jack….come on….I love you…”

When he got no reply, Rhys sighed, turning around and sliding down the door to sit up against it. He pulled his legs up against his chest, resting his chin on his knees as he pouted, worrying the inside of his cheek. 

He nearly fell over backwards when the door suddenly opened, Rhys scrambling to balance himself as he turned around to look up. Jack was towering over him, silhouetted in the bright white light of the bathroom–but even in the shadow, Rhys could see the undeniable rough scar cut across his face. Rhys swallowed, watching like trembling prey as Jack’s eyes–bright blue and milky, pink-white–roved over the seated man. Rhys got up on his knees and turned about slowly, carefully, as if any wrong move might startle Jack into fleeing. He sat back on his calves, pose suppliant and questioning as he looked up at Jack. 

Rhys expected Jack to brush by him, to slam the door in his face, or even kick him down to the floor. He _wanted_  Jack to tell him the story, or let him touch it, satisfy his curiosity. What actually happened, was none of those things. 

A sudden weight hit his chest as the shadow of Jack seemingly sucked down into the carpet, and Rhys found himself with an unexpected armful of CEO as Jack pressed his face into Rhys’ flesh shoulder. Rhys started softly, heart beating quickly as Jack’s breath pressed harshly into him. Jack smothered himself against Rhys, his arms wrapping tightly around the young man’s waist. Rhys’ heart was the only thing responding as he froze still, hands hovering uselessly over Jack’s back before settling lightly against him. The CEO didn’t speak, barely moved a muscle, his breath and Rhys’ heartbeats the only sounds the young man could hear. Rhys turned his head downwards, but Jack’s face was hidden against him, scar obscured from Rhys’ view in a crinkle of striped teal fabric.  

Okay. Jack wasn’t ready to show his face, but he was okay with hiding it into Rhys. That was all right. He could work with that, for now. 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I went to a restaurant for my birthday with a mirrored bathroom and well. I wanted to write Jack fucking Rhys in it.

Rhys was feeling dizzy.

It wasn’t just the passion fruit cocktail that had been a _little_ stronger than Rhys had first thought–sue him, he was used to restaurants that tempered your alcohol intake with baskets of free bread–nor was it exactly the intoxicating musk of Jack’s cologne bottled up in the closed off bathroom stall he was currently being held in. It might be the way Jack’s hands were gripping tightly around his bare hips, or the way his cock was pushing its way into his body, banging Rhys against the wall and drawing needy little moans from between his lips. 

But it was definitely because this weird, ritzy little restaurant Jack had taken him to had made the odd design choice of making the insides of their bathroom stalls mirrored on all four walls. 

The moving reflections of him and Jack all around him was messing with his head, his only sense of grounding coming from the grip and pressure of Jack’s cock and hands and the way his breath fogged up the mirrored wall he was being pressed up against. He looked over his shoulder back at Jack, trying to focus on the man moaning and pressing up behind him, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from being drawn to the way the reflection of Jack’s tanned body–his fancy dress shirt temporarily forgotten on the floor–fragmented into the walls behind him and flanking him. 

Rhys was similarly shirtless, his creamy skin broken by swirls of tattoos rebounded infinitely in the mirrors surrounding them, making him all too aware of the way his back arched, the way his muscles flexed under pale skin and blue ink, how Jack’s hand molded perfectly to every curve when it stroked a long, languid path down his spine–

Jack’s hips jerk as he pins Rhys’ forward against the door of the stall, and Rhys has to close his eyes because its all becoming too much, he’s dizzy and colors are popping in front of his eyes, he’s trying to keep quiet but he feels like he’s going to explode, and Jack is still hammering away into him, holding him close and keeping him trapped against something physical.

Rhys comes hard against the mirrored glass of the stall door, release trickling down as Rhys’ body stutters with arousal. He keeps his eyes closed, biting back the moan on his lip as Jack’s hips slap into him one more time before he too comes, slumping against his boyfriend and kissing and licking warmly over the back of his neck with a grin. 

“You feel about ready for dessert, kiddo…” Jack laughed breathily into Rhys skin, “or are you full ‘nough now as it is?”


End file.
